


in the future

by elijahfall



Category: Marvel (Movies)
Genre: M/M, not very good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 12:38:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elijahfall/pseuds/elijahfall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's frightening, and it's beautiful."</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the future

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I have no clue where this came from, I just started writing yesterday, and suddenly I was finished today. (I'm only capable of writing short things apparently) So, the end is a bit abrupt, sorry about that... 
> 
> As always, I don't own any of the characters, just the feelings.

The first time they kiss, it's underneath a streetlight in Lower East Manhattan, at a tiny place called _Ten Bells._

Steve Rogers has been kissed twice in his life -- once, if he's counting the number of times he'd been a willing (coherent) participant. There are bells going off in his head, the sound of his heart in his ears, jumping up his throat, and is that Tony's beard? There's so much more he feels like he's missing, so much he's not doing, but maybe it's because his eyes are squeezed shut, and his lips are almost helpless against Tony's own -- keep up, Steve. Fingers rest on his neck. The ragged scratch of hair against his chin, his neck, and yeah, that's Tony's beard. 

Tony doesn't ever remember (but he's never been one to dwell on past romances while furiously making out with super soldiers) being kissed by someone who's lips are so goddamned _warm_ \-- how much had Steve drank? But Tony's tipsy too, one foot is off the curb, the other up on the sidewalk, and it feels like death and something entirely different all at once. He's falling, maybe, off the edge of the tower, flying through the air at breakneck speed. So, maybe he's had too much to drink. But he's here, at least, partially grounded. 

They both pull away before an ambulance is needed, and it's quiet. Tony's eyes look a warm brown in the yellowed light, and Steve's look sickly green. The pattern on Steve's tie makes Tony dizzy, just a little, but he's operating with half his normal supply of oxygen, so he deserves a little leeway. Steve realizes his hands are wrapped around Tony's forearms, gripping his suit like the rails on the Cyclone. They both laugh, and it's quiet. 

The first time they make love -- Tony can't bring himself to call it that. They're fucking. It's deep and heady, raw and powerful. Fast. Steve's bedroom will be a little worse for wear when the both of them come out of it, clothes here, pillows there, a lamp neglected on the floor. There's a book on the Civil War laying open at the end of the bed (Tony's surprised it's still there), and between moans, Steve groans out theories and definitions; he's nervous, and the words shiver out of his throat. It shouldn't be hot, but Tony loves it. He loves the way Steve's mouth looks around the words "elected convention." Tony has understood for a long time now what the words "guilty pleasure" mean. He doesn't know what to call this. 

Steve feels it, every last bit of it, every last inch. There's a place inside of him that's on fire. His arms are slung across Tony's shoulders, and then they're twisting in the sheets, and then they're above his head. Over his face. He wonders if it'll be like this every time, Tony's grunts and the edge of the arc reactor (cold, biting) against his chest. It's far more than he can take, and it isn't enough. He's whispering in Tony's ear, words trembling against Tony's neck, shuddering down Tony's shoulder. He wants more, and maybe he's always wanted more. Maybe Tony's always wanted more. It's difficult to tell, Steve thinks. His thoughts are a clean slate now, tabula rasa as Tony moves again. It's frightening, and it's beautiful. 

It's nearly two months later when Tony says _I love you_. 

_I know_ is how Steve replies, sitting at the breakfast table. He's peeling an orange. He says _I love you too_.


End file.
